


Waiting on a Word

by flipflop_diva



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1316545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes waiting is the hardest thing you can do. Set between 1.13 (T.R.A.C.K.S.) and 1.14 (T.A.H.I.T.I.). Huge spoilers for both episodes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting on a Word

**Author's Note:**

  * For [APgeeksout](https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/gifts).



All she could do was wait. 

Sit. And wait. And count the seconds as they ticked painfully, agonizingly by. 

No one came in. No one went out. 

She just sat there. They _all_ just sat there. All five of them.

Waiting.

Waiting.

And then waiting some more.

“Anyone hungry?” Coulson asked at one point.

No one was.

No one was talkative either.

Melinda certainly wasn’t. 

It was always easier for her to watch a room, to observe its occupants, to pretend she had no feelings herself. This was no different. 

She let her eyes wonder over all of them, taking them in.

Mostly they didn’t move, but sometimes she saw Simmons scrunch her nose, check her phone, and start fiddling around with the buttons, as if they alone provided the answer.

Sometimes she heard Fitz mumble under his breath, a string of words and thoughts she had long ago learned to tune out, as though anything he had learned in his many, many years of schooling and training had given him the answer to this.

Sometimes she saw Ward clench his fist, glare at the door, as though contemplating whether a punch in the nose to someone undetermined would get this all cleared up. If it would, she would be the first one up helping him.

Sometimes she saw Coulson open his mouth to speak, but then pause, as if he thought better of it. As if he knew there were no words right now that would make everything better.

There weren’t.

Nothing helped.

And so they all just waited some more.

Because there was nothing else to do.

It’s not that any of them hadn’t been in this situation before. They all had. Melinda couldn’t count the number of agents she had worked with who had been injured, or killed, in the line of duty. It was part of the job. It was what they signed up for.

But somehow this felt different, as though a piece of her very soul also lay on the line.

This wasn’t just another agent, another colleague.

This was Skye.

How a girl she had barely known for six months — a girl she wasn’t even sure she _liked_ — had managed to squirm her way so deeply into the group, Melinda wasn’t sure.

But she had. And now she was dying.

She had to live. She had to.

But there was nothing they could do but wait.

And so they did.

It was five of the worst hours of Melinda May’s life.


End file.
